


Syrup Pancakes and Painkillers

by pcyeosh (sujebi)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drabble, Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:44:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6929203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sujebi/pseuds/pcyeosh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chanyeol is drowning and he drags Baekhyun along with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Syrup Pancakes and Painkillers

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://jimbenton.com/page14/files/JimBentonComic-DontEverLeaveMe.html) comic by Jim Benton (some words taken directly from it).

It is one of those nights where Baekhyun jolts awake from his sleep; limbs tangled in the sheets, heavy eyes are forced to open as his hand roams around to find his cell phone—its blinking light shows that he has either missed calls or unread messages—only to toss it back on the mattress when he registers the lack of lights outside the window as _it’s-still-too-fucking-early_. The imprints of bright numbers he just saw on an AMOLED screen still fresh in his sight as he waddles out the bed. _2:06 AM_ , it says.

The fact that no live broadcast of a football match is airing, or that he already finished all his work before deadline doesn’t really add up to why Byun Baekhyun is stumbling over the mat, patting the walls in search of a light switch at an early stage of the day. A few painful seconds while his eyes are adjusting to the brightness, the reason of why he doesn’t get to finish his dream that night comes to view with a slammed door.

A sigh of relief is let out as small steps are taken, approaching the six-foot hunched figure leaning on the door frame. Dainty hands are slipped under fatty arms in a worn-out black hoodie, fingers interlocked behind the back. A mop of black hair meets a square jaw with hints of untrimmed facial hair as pale cheek lies on a broad chest. Hums of contentment are heard, vibrations are sent down the smaller man’s body.

“Were you out drinking again, Yeol?” He asks in a tiny voice, no inquiry attached; tone as flat as those maple syrup pancakes he always prepares alongside a glass of water and painkiller tablets on the mornings after _this_ happens.

“Hm,” comes the expected answer in a slightly hoarse voice.

This time, the sigh Baekhyun lets loose is not any kind of relieved as fingers are loosened and bodies are detached. “Go change your clothes and take a shower, your body stinks.”

A peck on top of the head with a ‘love you’, and the wasted giant saunters off to the shower. Baekhyun might have to check up on him in a few minutes—seeing that a few while back, Chanyeol’s dreaded morning had been worsened by a cold, courtesy of the drowsiness that overtook him while showering and his overly intoxicated body that couldn’t stay awake.

Baekhyun forces himself to stay awake.

 

_“How much longer, Baekhyun?!”_

 

_“You can’t sacrifice your future for something as petty as love.”_

 

_“Leave. He isn’t doing any good to you.”_

 

It is one of those beautiful moments where the sun emits the lasts of beautiful crimson light, bidding goodbye to the day. Where the sky slowly turning shades darker and darker until the pale blue moon makes its appearance, reflecting lights from the stars; its presence close and protective, acting as the companion of late workers and lonely lovers. The moon always watches over Baekhyun.

The phone in his pocket vibrates when he almost finishes his work. He remains idle on his seat anyway, eyes scanning tables and numbers on the computer screen—looking out for slipped mistakes. It is when he deems that his work has been done the vibration stops. Taking the phone out of his pocket, he swipes a pattern code—a ‘C’—unlocking the device. It is right then when the phone starts to vibrate again, an unknown number calling. Baekhyun’s thumb hovers over the screen for a second, hesitant, before finally swipes to answer.

“Hello?”

He is greeted by an unfamiliar, deep voice. “Hello, sir. This is Seoul Metropolitan Police Department. Am I talking to Byun Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun freezes for a second before he rasps out, “Yes, I am Byun Baekhyun.”

Humming briefly, the other line proceeds to continue, “You are claimed to be related with Park Chanyeol. If that information is true, please come to the Jongno office as soon as possible.”

 

No cars or pedestrians are in sight when Baekhyun walks home with Chanyeol in tow. A certain part of Seoul has decided that it’s time to sleep. The familiar buzz of silence and a few croaks of the frogs are the only sounds that escort them in the night.

They walk together, taps of dress shoes take turns with squeaks of worn-out sneakers on the concrete sidewalk. Baekhyun walks with his face straight upfront; his pocket feels lighter with an empty wallet—the contents are already transferred to a prison bail. Beside him, walking with his head bowed to the ground, Chanyeol mumbles something inaudible.

“What?” Baekhyun halts his steps. A split second after, Chanyeol does the same.

“Huh?”

“What did you say?”

Chanyeol turns around to face Baekhyun and does that thing where his lips are pressed together and slanted a bit to the right, showing his dimple; the thing Baekhyun recognizes as something Chanyeol always does when he is worried.

“I said sorry,” he looks right into Baekhyun’s eyes. “I messed up our chance to eat steak for this month.” He then lets out a light chuckle, followed by his trademark boyish grin.

Baekhyun stills for a second, eyes blinking in surprise. He can’t help but slowly smiling back, though; seeing Chanyeol’s _real_ smile, the one he fell for and always falls for, comes to life again—not the lopsided one with bloodshot eyes and spoken slurred words.

Shy eyes meet the ground as connection between two lovers is bound once again. “We can always survive on _ramyeon_ s, you know.”

With shared laughter and linked hands, the night doesn’t feel as lonely anymore.

 

It is those twin crescent moons that always pull Chanyeol back to earth. The ones he always yearns to see, welcoming him home every night and then. The ones that always look at him lovingly, paired with an equally loving smile and words of encouragement. The ones that made him fall in love with Byun Baekhyun.

Chanyeol doesn’t take things for granted. Since young, he is always hard-working, well-mannered, and eager to please. He believes that along with great effort comes great achievement. Some people calls him naive or vain, but he stays strong with his principle. And when it doesn’t bring happiness to him, happiness always comes in the form of Baekhyun.

But nonetheless, after all the rejection notices and failed interviews, Chanyeol also found happiness in the form of intoxicating liquids in tall, green bottles.

Sometimes Chanyeol thought about possibilities, occurrences, all the _what-if_ s and _might-be_ s. But then again, it all doesn’t matter, as long as he has Baekhyun to pull him back to earth.

 

_“Mother is sick, Baekhyun.”_

 

_“I don’t know what’s inside that pretty head of yours, but you’re destroying yourself and the people around you.”_

 

_“Do as what I said.”_

 

It is one of the rare nights where words are being told, gazes are being exchanged, and small touches linger. It’s almost like going back to the time when the days were brighter, they were happier, and everything was _okay_.

Baekhyun knows for a fact that it’s actually not.

“Chanyeol,” he mumbles on the other’s lips, retreating back as he looks properly at his lover’s face to say, “I’m leaving.”

Chanyeol feels like the world stops for a while. He slowly tilts his head, watching Baekhyun’s expression closely. His left thumb falls on a wet patch of skin as he cradles Baekhyun’s face. Kissing away the tears, he says, “No, you’re not.”

Baekhyun forces himself not to give in to those soft lips, planting velvety kisses to his eyes, nose, cheeks, and his own lips. He pries away Chanyeol’s calloused hands and says in a firm tone, “I am. I’m going to.”

“Baby,” Chanyeol looks him in the eyes. He then proceeds to meet their foreheads together. “Please don’t ever leave me.”

Baekhyun feels those exact fatty arms circling his waist, trapping him in a light hug. But as words are said out loud, it feels tighter and tighter, as if Chanyeol is worried that he might slip away.

“If you leave me, I’ll drink too much,” his breath hitches, “and get in all kinds of trouble, and totally let myself go.”

“Chanyeol, no…”

The taller man shakes his head. “I’ll be doing all these stuff anyway, but please don’t ever leave me.”

With that, Chanyeol melts Baekhyun with a searing kiss laced with beads of tears, and Baekhyun lets himself bask in the temporary peace of mind once again.

 

Baekhyun doesn’t know what they did wrong; they had felt so right. They still do.

But he figures caring too much can leave him crashing in the end.

 

One night, Chanyeol doesn’t come home to dainty hands slipping under his arms anymore.

One day, Chanyeol doesn’t wake up to maple syrup pancakes; nor a glass of water and painkillers anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> First written on 5/28/14, a wip sitting in my drive. I was so poetic back then compared to now lol (pretty much reflects my taste in fics then and now). And I can't title shit.


End file.
